


something just like this

by calliopetay (moastar)



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Cheating, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Smut, the slowest of burns ever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:27:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25166188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moastar/pseuds/calliopetay
Summary: Trixie had joined a dating site. A dating site named Brenda, no less. She uploaded her cutest photos; where her tiny cat Kim were pressed against her cheeks, or the one where she were her skinniest; make-up painted and hair in perfect ringlets.This was not her current reality, though: Kim had stubbornly ignored her all night, probably judging her every move, and Trixie had gained a little weight. It was okay, though, because who wanted to date someone who had their spine on show? Damn, fuck. Be friends with. Not date.The thing is, Trixie wasn't looking for love.
Relationships: Trixie Mattel/Katya Zamolodchikova
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	something just like this

**Author's Note:**

> hello, and hi.
> 
> it's been a while. 
> 
> this is a new fic I've been working on for over a year now. the chapters may be posted quite sparodically, as I only write when I both feel able to and have the time to. 
> 
> this fic is based in the UK; specifically Manchester, and will be the slowest of slow burns if y'all can handle that, with the beloved friends to lovers trope; however, that friendship will always be a little blurred... 
> 
> there's cheating, drinking, mild food and overexcerising mentions, and drug references in this fic. I will of course tw these at the beginning of every chapter. 
> 
> I'm quite nervous to post this, actually! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: mild mention of undereating/over-exercising

Trixie is sweating. 

Trixie isn't quite used to the sensation - the fire on her skin, the rush of blood throughout her veins, the protest of every single sinew - and to be beetroot red in front of a wealth of fit strangers. 

Trixie could hardly care, though; her mind was in a thick fog. She'd force-fed her thick thighs into some loose leggings, had pulled a baggy t-shirt over her head, and lost herself in arguably the healthiest form of self-punishment. Trixie was by no stretch interested in becoming a gym bunny - but today, she needed the release. 

Trixie cranked the height of her treadmill up higher, feeling her muscles screaming in protest. She ignored their pleas, puffing out laboured breaths as she increased her speed. Her neighbours, all buff and beautiful, paid her no attention, and that is exactly what Trixie needed - to be ignored, whilst she punished herself. 

Her music was cranked up as loud as her broken iPhone would allow, and she pitifully replayed Ed Sheeran on a loop as she climbed. Every time her mind dare wander to the forbidden fruit she had just tasted, she would stubbornly shut her thoughts down. 

Trixie was _not_ a home-wrecker. Not, of course, on _purpose,_ anyway. 

But despite telling herself on a loop that this was the truth, Trixie couldn't help but feel like she was, at the very least, being white-lied to. 

A bead of sweat trickled from Trixie's pounding temple, which she quickly dashed away with a feeble hand. Her insides felt weak, and she couldn't quite decide whether that was from lack of food and forced exercise, or because she couldn't help but think about what happened only two days before. 

***

**4 years earlier**

K: hi :) 

_Oh for the love of all things, what am I doing?_

Trixie rubbed a weary hand across her face, pressing sharply into the cheeks that poked out from under her skin. Her phone vibrated a second time, a new message waking her phone from its momentary sleep. 

Trixie glared at it as though it was betraying her, and she silently turned her phone face-down against her desk. 

Trixie had joined a dating site. A dating site named Brenda, no less. She uploaded her cutest photos; where her tiny cat Kim were pressed against her cheeks, or the one where she were her skinniest; make-up painted and hair in perfect ringlets. 

This was not her current reality, though: Kim had stubbornly ignored her all night, probably judging her every move, and Trixie had gained a little weight. It was okay, though, because who wanted to date someone who had their spine on show? Damn, fuck. _Be friends with_. Not date. 

The thing is, Trixie wasn't looking for love.

A third buzz from her dormant phone jumped Trixie from her fervent haze, and she snatched it into clawed hands. 

**Pearl** : I can't come this weekend - gotta work. sorry

Trixie's baited breath shuddered from her lips, the familiar feeling of upset creeping at her insides. This was the very first message she'd received from her long-distance girlfriend all day, and hardly a pleasant one at that. 

Trixie lay her phone flat against the desk where she was perched, and drew her legs up onto her computer chair. She hugged her knees tightly to her chest, her chin resting somberly against the soft fabric of her Disney pj's that were littered with tiny grey thumpers. 

No, Trixie wasn't looking for love. Her heart was occupied; occupied by someone far away, someone who had stolen her heart at a time she thought she needn't have one. Someone who was now so distant, not only in a physical sense, but miles apart emotionally. 

Trixie couldn't understand it. Her and Pearl were a match made in heaven; even their astrological signs had aligned, making Trixie think that the very stars wrote out their love in ageless constellations. Pearl would smoke a short blunt, her arm wrapped tentatively around Trixie's small shoulders, and they'd play old runs of GTA on her dusty PlayStation 2. Pearl would cook beautiful dinners for her, _vegetarian_ of course, and let her watch reruns of Barbie's Dream House, despite her disdain for its childish backdrop. Pearl would fuck Trixie into oblivion, tending carefully to all of her kinks and indulging full-heartedly into every single fantasy that Trixie had ever had. 

_Would._ Pearl _would_ do these things. But not anymore. 

Trixie carefully plucked her phone back up, turning it over in her hands for a few hesitant moments before finally unlocking it. 

T: hey :) 

Trixie felt a prickle of guilt gnaw away at her bones as she pressed a thumb to the "send" button on the Brenda messenger. _No_ , she thought. _I_ _am doing nothing wrong. I'm just making friends._

She turned her attention to the pitiful thread of texts from Pearl. 

**Trixie** : okay… I could come to you? I don't mind hanging out at your flat while you work. 

Trixie knew that Pearl's reply may not come for hours, days even. She heaved a shuddering sigh, forcing herself to her slippered feet in search of her grumpy cat. 

Her phone buzzed against the thick of her thigh from her pocket, and she snatched it up immediately, hoping desperately for Pearl's response. 

No, it was the girl from Brenda. 

K: how are you doing? I'm not very good at this malarkey, but you seem cute, so… here I am 

Trixie snickered slightly, deciding to inspect this person further.

She thumbed at her profile picture to get a closer look - she was butch, but softly so, with dirty blonde hair that was religiously scraped back throughout all of her profile photos. She seemed cute, though, Trixie thought. She had piercing green eyes and Trixie swore she could spy a chiselled abdomen beneath her plain t-shirts. 

T: thank you, that's sweet! you seem cute too, is that a guitar I spy in one of your photos? 

Trixie knew this game she was playing was inherently dangerous. She knew that she was projecting dissatisfaction from her current relationship, and seeking some form of, well, _anything_ , from _anyone_. Still, she couldn't help but feel a thrill when a second message - from a different girl, no less - brightened her dormant screen. Another butch, with thick, jet-black hair, and piercings on her lip, offending her with the opening line of "hey there ;)". 

Still, this fruitless back and forth with cute, eager bachelors certainly beat her usual evenings of misery; overeating, overthinking, and waiting for a call from Pearl that would never come. 

"What's up?" 

Trixie nearly flung her phone from her palms with fright, her hair whipping her pink cheeks as she spun on her heels to greet the intruder, fist raised with a warning. 

Of course, it was only her roommate, Blair - a boy who, despite creeping past the age of 20, looked like he belonged in a primary school. His deer-like legs stretched below him, and in his tiny arms lay a bag of what could only be Chinese takeout. 

His sculpted eyebrows raised in wonderment at his roommate's defensive stance. "Trix, hun - - - are you alright?" 

Slowly, deliberately, Trixie lowered her raised fist, choking back a fit of laughter. "Jesus, _fuck,_ Blair. You scared the living daylights out of me."

Blair carefully laid the takeaway bag onto the dining room table. "I was _singing_ as I came in. How did you not hear that?" 

Trixie audibly groaned. "Show tunes?" 

Blair grinned, all teeth. "What else?" 

"What did you bring me?" Trixie asked, trotting excitedly over to the dining room table towards the source of the delicious smell. 

"Sweet and sour tofu," he shrugged, heading for the kitchen to retrieve some cutlery. "I figured you could use some cheering up." 

Trixie could've kissed him right there and then. "You are the best housemate _ever_." 

"I know!" Blair sing-songed in response from the kitchen, the tell-tale sound of clattering telling Trixie he was picking out plates. Trixie thought for a moment. 

"Wanna watch Chicago?" she called out, already knowing the answer. 

Blair's boyish face appeared in the doorway at once, his cheeks flushed red and his bright blue eyes wide. "Of fucking _course!_ " 

Trixie chuckled. Blair was the pinnacle of the gay stereotype, she thought, listening to her friend hum along to an 80's power ballad she had forgotten the name of. 

Trixie was in such high spirits that she almost forgot the back-and-forth she was having on Brenda, and the reason for it. That was, until part-way through the film, and a mouthful of crispy tofu, her phone buzzed angrily against the countertop. 

Both Blair and Trixie startled, and Blair's carton of seaweed went flying across the room, littering the hardwood floor with tiny, crispy sprigs. 

"Fuck sake!" Blair exclaimed, throwing his hands up and staring with dismay at the mess. 

Trixie shot him an apologetic glance, before throwing herself at the vibrating phone. 

_Pearl._

"H-hey, baby!" Trixie babbled into the mouthpiece, clutching the phone as if it were a precious gemstone. Blair rolled his eyes to the heavens with great exaggeration, and Trixie promptly gave him the finger. 

"Hey," Pearl's voice, deep and soft and laced with sleepiness, was like music to Trixie's ears. The mounting unread messages from Brenda now evaporated into nothingness.

"How are you doing, I---" Trixie stumbled around the coffee table in her haste to reach her bedroom, the spilled seawood crunching beneath her bare feet. Mouthing another "I'm sorry" at Blair, Trixie managed to reach her bedroom, and collapsed onto her bed, clinging the phone to her ear with desperation. A smile crept against her dainty lips. "How are you?" 

"Tired," Pearl muttered, though Trixie could hear the smile in her voice. Trixie's heart fluttered. 

"All done in the studio?" 

"Just about," Pearl mumbled boredly. Trixie's heart sank at the pause that followed; hollow and vast. 

"Listen," Pearl's voice was slightly muffled, and Trixie knew immediately that she was rolling a cigarette between her perfect teeth. "I got your message, and I appreciate the offer, but I'm doing overtime at the bar. There'd be no point in you coming down this weekend. By the time I get back home, it's late, and then I'm back in at 10 in the morning." 

Trixie nodded somberly, feeling utterly stupid for allowing herself to feel a flicker of hope that she might see Pearl this week. Or this month. 

"Trixie? You there?"

"O-oh! Y-yes, I'm here…" 

"Oh, come on, Blondie," Pearl's words were blown out in exasperation, and Trixie could visualise the tendrils of smoke rising from her nostrils like a dragon as she smoked. Trixie wasn't sure why Pearl had christened her with the nickname "blondie", when she herself was also a pale, silver-blonde. "Don't give me that sad, sad voice. You know I have to work." 

Trixie could feel pricks of upset choking up her throat at the bemused tone from her girlfriend. She shook herself slightly, forcing a shaky smile despite it not being visable. "No, no, of course. I get it, it's fine. What about a call? A video chat?"

Pearl hummed against the cigarette in her mouth, and Trixie knew at once that she was to be further let down. "Probably not, babe. I'll be tired. I have music to make."

Trixie nodded again against the handset. At least, she thought with a tiny glup, _at least_ Pearl had called tonight. 

"Well---" Pearl blew out smoke again, and Trixie swore she could taste it. "I need to go… love ya."

The call went dead in her hands, but Trixie still cradled the phone to her ear, as if in doing so would bring Pearl's voice back. She thought bitterly about how they used to spend hours on that very phone, talking about everything and nothing at all. Trixie continued to listen to the tone of the terminated call, and she couldn't help but think it sounded like a flatlining heart. 

**Author's Note:**

> anyone who has ever had the pleasure of gracing a dating app will be no stranger to the "hey there" greeting, I'm sure... 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
